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Argetlam felt there was more confusion than anything to be found here; the great draft let heave a sigh amongst the spurting seeds of mayhem. While it was, perhaps, good enough to seek out companionship of others, and certainly felt good to meet new members of the herd such as Nadira, he wasn't sure how comfortable he felt with the meeting coming out from chaos. Judgemental as that may seem to the great stallion, he cannot shake off the feeling the dark mare should not have been taken forcefully. Yet neither is it his place to annouce it so and demand her freed, and that isn't like the gentle peace-keeper anyway. But if he is to debate the pros and cons of Insanity's actions, he must also include Delinne's foul tongue. Nothing comes of speaking rudely.
"Delinne, please, there is no use for foul language." Argetlam murmurs, sending her a pleading glance with his burnished amber eyes. He then turns his near-silent attention back to Insanity, who seems to be becoming quite stressed, like a strand of metal being worn thin from use from too many years; and the burnished chocolate mare snaps, effectively sending the snail shrinking back into his shell, or turtle if you prefer. The metal-bender's mouth closes firmly and his ears twitch back; he tilts his head down a touch and his dusty, straw-like mane falls across his sweet yellow and gold eyes. It is just then that he realizes how hot it is; the Tallsun heat seems to have penetrated even this cavern, and the emitted warmths of the bodies do not help this case.
Maybe he should remove himself from this dilemma, instead of simply standing here and creating more difficulty. But Argetlam does not, and maybe it's simply because of the walls of quiet stone that thump with the heartbeat of metal. It's all around him, soothing and steady, and it keeps his sturdy feet from leaving.
"Delinne, please, there is no use for foul language." Argetlam murmurs, sending her a pleading glance with his burnished amber eyes. He then turns his near-silent attention back to Insanity, who seems to be becoming quite stressed, like a strand of metal being worn thin from use from too many years; and the burnished chocolate mare snaps, effectively sending the snail shrinking back into his shell, or turtle if you prefer. The metal-bender's mouth closes firmly and his ears twitch back; he tilts his head down a touch and his dusty, straw-like mane falls across his sweet yellow and gold eyes. It is just then that he realizes how hot it is; the Tallsun heat seems to have penetrated even this cavern, and the emitted warmths of the bodies do not help this case.
Maybe he should remove himself from this dilemma, instead of simply standing here and creating more difficulty. But Argetlam does not, and maybe it's simply because of the walls of quiet stone that thump with the heartbeat of metal. It's all around him, soothing and steady, and it keeps his sturdy feet from leaving.
